Don’t look at her thighs. Don’t look at her thighs.
“Wow…” Margo says suddenly, sighing as if she’s just taken a shot, “that was…not as hard as I thought it would be. Whew.”
“Yeah. I was kinda scared about handling it too. But…this is good.”
“This is good,” Margo smiles, pulling her shoulders back and looking peppy. She points at her computer. “It’s for the best. Ok…so I’m going to…”
“Yeah, I should get some work done too,” I say, pushing my chair back toward my usual spot.
“Thanks for the coffee,” Margo says, lifting the cup.
I wink and lift my own as if toasting, then quickly push away the memory of the last time we actually did toast.
About nine seconds after we refocus ourselves on our respective screens, nine seconds into our new-found, healthy resolution, Melissa’s assistant Agnes pops up between us.
“Hey you two!”
“Hey Agnes,” I reply.
Margo takes a second longer to peel herself from her screen. “What’s up?”
“I can’t wait to see what you guys do,” Agnes says. “I’m so excited about the dates.”
“You’re welcome to take my place,” Margo says.
“No way! You’re going to have so much fun!” Agnes replies.
I spin my chair around to face her, and say, “That depends on what you’ve laid out for us. Or whom.”
Agnes claps her hands together with excitement, and a sense of dread washes over me. “So I’ve sent you both emails with all the details—make sure you check them out. Tom, Mia, and a couple of interns are going to handle the filming. Melissa said you like to work on the editing, Owen, so you can sort that out with Mia or Tom—”
“What about the dates?” Margo asks impatiently. “Who are they? How did you pick them?”
“Oh, Margo, you are going to die for the guy I chose. He. Is. Just. Perfect,” Agnes says, her eyes rolling back in their sockets as she fans herself. “Better than perfect. Like, you didn’t even know what you wanted until you saw this guy. ‘Cause you didn’t even know guys could be this good-looking. He’s got these shoulders—”
“But what does he do?” Margo asks. “What is he like? Does he read?”
Agnes looks confusedly at Margo, as if she doesn’t quite understand the question.
“I’m not too sure…like, I guess he’s rich. He has to be rich. I think he works in finance? Or some kind of office thing.”
“O…kay…” Margo looks less than thrilled.
“What about my date?” I ask.
“Oh, don’t worry, she’s hot too. She’s really skinny. Like, a size zero. She’ll be great on camera.”
For about five seconds Agnes and I look at each inanely, each of us waiting for the other to say more.
“Skinny?” I say, breaking first. “That’s…it? Does she have hobbies? Anything at all we can talk about, or that we might possibly have in common?”
“She looks really cute!” Agnes says, smiling with excitement again. “Don’t even worry about it. You’re gonna love her.”
She squeezes Margo on the shoulder, turns, and walks away, leaving Margo and I to swap a ‘what-the-fuck’ look.
“Oh!” Agnes says, when she’s five paces away, turning back to add something else. “I forgot the best part!” Margo and I look at her in fearful anticipation. “You’re going to be playing mini-golf on your dates! Isn’t that so fun?”
Agnes spins away again, and I look at Margo. She opens her mouth, but I speak before she has a chance to.
“Yes, Margo. It’s too late to change your mind. And for the record, I hate mini-golf too.”
She clears her throat and then drops her eyes toward the filing cabinet she keeps under our shared desk. The filing cabinet where her flask of whiskey lives.
“I think I’m about to drop my pen under the desk and have a hard time finding it,” she mutters. “Care to join me and my friend Johnnie Walker while we look?”
I grin. “Love to.”
8
Margo
TrendBlend can be a weird place to work sometimes. One minute you’re blind-drunk and having kittens thrown your way, the next you’re standing in the parking lot of a mini-golf course, about to go on a double date with one of your closest friends who you’ve also just slept with.
Owen and I are sitting against the SUV while Tom, Mia, and a couple of interns discuss filming. We’re still waiting for our dates to show up. I’m so anxious that I can’t stop fidgeting, checking my phone and tapping my foot in between bouts of deep, slow breaths that do absolutely nothing to dispel my nerves.
“You ok?” Owen asks.
“What? Yeah. Of course.”
“You sure? You’re brushing your hair back a lot. You always do that when you’re nervous.”
“Well I’m nervous, sure,” I say. “But I’m ok.”
Owen’s leaning back against the car chewing gum like he could wait all day there. Relaxed, self-assured, at ease with himself and everything around him. I can almost believe that he’s already forgotten everything that happened between us. Maybe it’s a man/woman thing, but to me it feels like we just put a shiny coat of paint over the cracks in our relationship. A thin veneer that’s in danger of breaking at any second. Yet Owen has been so nonchalant about it I’m starting to wonder if I’m the weird one. Maybe it really wasn’t that big of a deal to him. Maybe it really was just sex to him, and nothing else.
“I think this is going to be good for you,” Owen says, taking his gum out and screwing it into a wrapper.
“What? More public embarrassment?”
Owen laughs. “No. Getting out and dating again. Having some fun. Living a little in the moment. Like we were talking about in the bar.”
“Right. Nothing like a little fun,” I say, my voice going tight. I have to fight myself to not frown at him, to not get annoyed. Here I am trying to repress the memory of everything that happened and Owen’s bringing it up like it was just another day.
“Hey!” Tom says, as he appears from behind the car. “The guys are here with your dates.”
We look over toward the entrance of the parking lot and see the car parking there. I swap one last look with Owen and then look back, body tight with anticipation.
Owen’s date exits the car first, and I’m almost blinded by her. She’s six feet tall in pumps, with glistening bronze skin and hair that seems to swish around her head like a perpetual shampoo ad.
“Whoa,” I say.
“Hello,” Owen purrs, pushing himself off of the car to start walking toward her.
“Hey Owen! Hold up!” Mia calls as she jogs after him with the intern in tow, struggling to get her camera ready to film their first meeting.
I watch as Owen greets this woman, all smiles and trailing arms after a tight hug, the girl already laughing, playing with her hair, Owen in full casual-attack mode.